


BtVS Collected Ficlets

by juniperberry



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Kinkmeme, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 06:03:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 3,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16191581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juniperberry/pseuds/juniperberry
Summary: A collection of my ficlets for Buffy the Vampire Slayer.





	1. Vines, Willow/Oz/Xander

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote these between 2009 and 2011, so they're rather old. But hopefully they'll provide some entertainment.

Oz wasn't sure how it came to this, with the three of them lying close together, their limbs surrounding each other like vines, binding and tangled.

Willow's head rested against his chest, her red hair bright against his black t-shirt. Xander's large, warm presence behind him was a reminder--even now, he and Willow didn't touch much, even though Oz could see how much they wanted to. But they didn't, afraid of driving him away from them with hurt and betrayal and the simplicity of the two of them.

He ran his fingers through Willow's hair and stroked Xander's arm where it curled around Oz's waist. The honesty in their eyes did as much to shred his jealousy as their dancing; he lay there and listened to them breathe, and wondered how he could build the last bridge between them.


	2. Burning, Buffy/Willow/Xander

Buffy burned brighter than either of them. That's what Xander thought, until Willow became a witch and began to burn almost as brilliantly.

They smoldered and sizzled, the two of them, and it wasn't just because they were both sexy. Xander wondered, at night when both of them were tucked up against him, and he wondered how long it would be until they would burn themselves to ash and he was left with only soot on his hands.

Buffy snuffled into his shoulder on one side. Willow murmured about tadpoles on the other side, and Xander sighed softly and tried to settle more firmly against them.

Fires lasted longer if they were banked.


	3. Microfilm, Xander/Riley

"What is this stuff?"

"Microfilm," Riley said, as he checked the exits out of habit. "Did Willow say what she wanted found?"

"Something about a slime demon," Xander said. "Wow, this stuff is old. 1913...1904...hey, 1866!"

Riley felt a smile creep up his face. "I'd think that'd be newfangled stuff to you," he said. Xander turned to him and blinked. Despite the eye patch, it did not look like a wink.

"Oh," Xander said, "yeah, a little. But I mean, newspapers. With sketches instead of photos. That's still kinda old, Riley." 

"If you say so," Riley said peaceably. Arguing with Xander rarely got him anywhere; it was usually best to go with the flow. 

"What are we supposed to look for, again?" Xander asked, as he pulled a reel of microfilm out of its case. Several feet of film, most of it black, unwound around his wrist. "Ah! It's carnivorous!"

"It isn't," Riley said, and carefully took the reel and rewound it. "And we do need to keep it down." 

"Willow never said anything about demonic microfilm," Xander said indignantly as Riley circled the reel around his arm. Riley shook his head.

"It's not demonic," he said. Once all the film was back on the reel they made their way to one of the large, clunky machines used to view it.

"You ever loaded one of these things?" Xander asked. Riley shook his head.

"Nah, but it can't be hard. I think it'll be easy."

Xander stared at him so long and hard that Riley checked himself. "What?" 

"You just had to go and jinx us," Xander said, and rolled his eye. Riley frowned at him.

"It can't be that hard--"

"Ah ah ah!" Xander said, waving his arms. "No, no more of that! You'll jinx us worse!"

Riley opened his mouth, and then reconsidered. He'd been around the Sunnydale crowd long enough to know that 'idiosyncrasies' and 'neurosis' were not only common conditions among them, they were interchangeable.

"Okay," he said mildly, "no more jinxing. Promise."

Xander eyed him suspiciously, but Riley managed to load the film and get the roll started without incident. 

"Jinxy soldier guy," Xander muttered, but he snagged a chair and settled next to Riley to read the transparent newspaper. A little too close--his breath tickled Riley's neck, just below his ear.

"You need to be so close?" Riley asked. Xander narrowed his eye and pointed to the eye patch.

"Oh," Riley said, and felt stupid. It still didn't explain why Xander leaned so close when there was plenty of room around them, but Riley let it lie. 

One of those things he'd picked up in Sunnydale.


	4. Unsettled, Willow/Oz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set early in season 4.

He'd felt it the day college started. He turned his mind from it, hunkered down against the knowledge, but something in him knew. He couldn't dismiss the unsettled dreams he had--smells, brief glimpses through dark leaves.

When he woke from them, August's new moon waxing into the fullness of September, not even Willow's warm body, the smell of her hair, the little mumbles she made during dreams could drive the feeling away. In the dark he couldn't deny that it existed--that had existed almost since the day he stepped on campus. It was a heavy feeling, dragging at him the way the full moon pulled his muscles and bones into new shapes and drowned his mind. Restlessness pinched him, and if he was alone he would walk around his room or the dorm, blaming the moon.

If Willow were with him he'd hold her tight, breathe in the smells she carried, soap and sweat, incense, perfume, car exhaust, the copper taste of air in the Bronze. Sometimes, no matter if she showered, she still had the grassy, fresh-turned earth smell of graveyards clinging to her. It was a meditation, keeping himself still and quiet so she could sleep without worry.

Of all the meditating he'd done--and even with that shifting, dragging feeling that wouldn't leave him--he'd seldom enjoyed meditating so much.

Mostly he could ignore it. But September's moon waned and waxed into October, and again into November, and there were smells on the wind that he was hard-pressed to block or ignore. The feeling coalesced into a certainty.

Change was coming. Unalterable things.


	5. Small Steps, Buffy/Tara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Universe

It was weird, feeling like this for a girl--a girl that Buffy didn't even remember having anything in common with, before rescuing her from the Gentlemen. Willow had been off tracking Riley, worried about her possible-could-be-rebound-boyfriend, and Buffy had tracked the Gentlemen to Tara's location. Barricading the door, in retrospect, had been the easiest part of that whole evening.

Buffy twisted her hands together, squeezed them. She was so strong. She hadn't worried about that much with Angel--he could match her almost strength for strength. But regular humans were so much weaker. 

"Hi," a low, shy voice said, and Buffy whirled, her mouth already pulling into a smile. 

"Hi," she said, and moved her books to the side. "Um. You can sit down if you want."

Tara did, sweeping her skirt around her legs as she sat. She gave Buffy that same sweet smile she had that first night, and every time she'd seen Buffy after that. It made Buffy breathe a little faster, the air feel a little thinner. She touched Tara's hand with one of her own, gently, and leaned forward--she was a Slayer, not a coward!--and kissed the corner of Tara's mouth. 

Tara's smile grew even sweeter. Buffy found that she didn't care about all those weird feelings, as long as Tara would look at her like that, and be next to her.

Slender fingers interlaced with her own, and Buffy glanced down. Tara had taken her hand, and Buffy felt no reason to let go. 

Not a single one.


	6. Fantasy, Faith/Cordelia

Faith watched as Queen C, dressed in stilleto heels, sharp skirt and 'how magnificent are my breasts' top stalked away from the tattoo shop. Any of her little clique at school would have stood out by glancing around, eyeing up the people on the wrong side of the tracks, shying away from every glance from every biker, punk, and wino. Queen C was good at pretending she didn't care about them, and she was damn good at that 'why are you even thinking of gawking at me, scumbag?' glare. Faith followed her, curious.

It wasn't hard work. If nothing else, she got to watch Queen C's backside as she sashayed down the street. All in all, not a chore.

Still, she wondered. What was Miss Bitch doing down here? From what Faith had seen, Queen C had been slumming it up by dating B's friend--the cute geeky one. But that was kinda over and done with. Maybe Miss Bitch had hooked up with a real bad boy this time?

Faith kept one eye on Queen C while she pondered that thought. A real bad boy, covered in tats, leather vest, dark hair, maybe giving Queen C a rough ride up against a brick wall. Or eating her out. Faith didn't believe for a moment that Queen C would get on her knees on this side of town--in a bed, maybe, but definitely not on the dirty ground, and not even in a car that didn't cost at least fifty grand. 

Queen C's footsteps finally clicked to a halt, and Faith looked up to see Miss Bitch giving her a hundred-watt glare. 

"Why're you following me?"

Faith shrugged. "Didn't think B would be happy to hear you got vamped on my watch," she said. She knew how to give attitude for attitude, bitch for bitch. Queen C might be a High Bitch, but Faith was a Slayer. She was pretty sure that trumped Queen Bitch any day.

"I can take care of myself," Queen C snapped, and Faith smirked at her. 

"Oh, I bet you can," she purred. "You got a piece of meat down here, C? Someone to make coming to the slummy side of Sunnydale worthwhile?"

Queen C sneered right back. "I came down here for my own reasons," she retorted. "And I don't have to explain myself you, or to Buffy, or to anybody, got me?"

Faith nodded, and waited a moment, watched as Cordelia turned away. "What'd you get?"

"I'm sorry?" Ooh, High Bitch was definitely in the building.

"What kinda tattoo did you get?" Faith asked, biting the words out in the best cross she could manage between 'bitch' and 'hey, wanna fuck?' "Maybe--lemme think--maybe Xander's name on your ass? Or maybe something a little more original?"

"None of your business," Cordelia snapped. "What do you care, anyway?"

Faith shrugged. "Tats are kinda permanent," she said. "I was just curious."

"It's not in a place you'll ever see," Cordelia said, "so you can butt out and start minding your own business anytime now."

"Ooh," Faith cooed. "The bitch-queen is in the house."

Cordelia glared at her. "Skank."

Faith grinned. "Prude."

"Slut."

"Cocktease."

Cordelia's mouth worked, like she was rifling through all the different insults she could throw for just the perfect one. Faith wanted to slam her against a wall, rub up against her, maybe leave a few bite marks on Queen C's pretty cleavage, slide her knee between those thighs and see what other sounds Cordelia could make. She was probably just as bossy getting laid and she was the entire rest of the time. Faith felt a fizzle in her belly and figured if they ever did hit the sheets, it would be nothing but fireworks.

"My 'tat' is not your business," Cordelia said at last, in that even, firm voice that said the mutual insulting was over. "I'll see you around, Faith."

With that she slid into her hot hot car and drove off. Faith wriggled and palmed the wooden stake tucked in the back of her jeans.

There had to be some stupid vamps that would give her a good fight. Then she could find some guy to get all horizontal with, and maybe get him to keep his mouth full long enough to ride out a fantasy.

Sounded like a good plan to her.


	7. Wishverse, Giles/Vamp!Xander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is kinda non-con, so if that's a trigger, please avoid. (I didn't feel it was graphic enough to earn the warning for the whole ficlet collection.)

"The thing about being a vamp," Xander crooned, "is that a lot of things get clear." He rubbed himself against a strong, shuddering thigh, and inhaled. "I remember, right after Willow turned me, I ran into you, and I wasn't hungry right then so I played along with the whole 'Oh yeah, my school librarian' thing." 

He licked a path from the white hat's collar bone to his ear, and smiled as the scent of fear mingled with the smell of arousal and shame.

"I could smell it, you know," he whispered. There was blood sheeted down the side of the white hat's face, from where Xander had used a rather blunt object to knock him out. Xander leaned over and licked some of it up. Tasty. "I could smell it, beneath the fear and the relief, just a real quick whiff--you've thought about fucking the boy I used to be, didn't you, Mr. Librarian?" He rocked his hips again and tightened his hands around the white hat's wrists. If the white hat lived long enough he might have bruises there later. 

But Xander wasn't one to keep playthings around for long. He'd have to keep this one around long enough for Willow to have a turn, though, and didn't that turn him on? The idea of Willow fucking the white hat and sucking him down and maybe he and Will could make a white hat sandwich.

"I--didn't," the white hat wheezed, and ooh, accent. Willow would like that as much as Xander did. "I--wouldn't ever--"

"Oh, come on," Xander purred. "Never thought about bending me over the checkout counter? Never thought about pushing down my jeans and spreading my legs and shutting me up with your cock pumping in and out of me?" He rolled his hips to demonstrate, and was rewarded with a flush and a flurry of frantic heartbeats. "We could do something similar, Mr. Librarian. I could ride you while my Willow watches. Or we could chain you up with the puppy, see how long it takes for him to give in to the blood beating just beneath your skin...."

Xander himself was pretty interested in that, himself. Maybe he wasn't as full as he thought. Willow might be disappointed, but he would make it up to her.

A crash broke the quiet tableau, and Xander snarled, whirling, only to be confronted by three large crosses and a posse of white hats. He dropped the librarian like he was made of holy water and backed away.

"Didn't even get to the good part," he muttered, and made himself scarce. If he'd had Willow with him, they might've taken the white hats on--but just him, against at least four teenagers armed to the teeth with anti-vampire weapons--

Well. Xander had never been the smartest, but he wasn't stupid.


	8. Mirror, Giles/Xander

The club was loud, and Xander could almost taste the metal that made up most of the decoration. Music with a steady, booming beat throbbed through the club. Xander tried to pay attention, but he kept wanting to close his eye and just forget it existed. That was a bad idea.

Giles bucked up against him, and the metal bar of the catwalk dug a little harder into Xander's stomach. "Pay attention, Xander," Giles said against his ear. Xander nodded and peeled his eye open again.

His left side--the blind side--was facing a dirty-gray wall. No one was on that side of him, thankfully. That meant no one could see Giles' hand, which had burrowed up Xander's jacket and loose shirt and then down the front of his jeans and boxer shorts. And oh, Giles was left-handed, and he was stroking Xander's cock with smooth, measured strokes, almost but not quite in time to the pulsing beat. Giles had pressed himself up against Xander's back, and Xander could feel a hard bulge right against his ass through way too many layers of clothing.

"Just move to the beat," Giles said. His breath tickled Xander's ear and the long hair that flopped into his good eye. "Don't want to attract attention, do you?"

No. Attention would be very, very bad right now. The catwalk was mostly empty, and Xander could see a few of the occupants standing several feet away, swaying to the music and trying to talk without shouting. No one was looking at them, the one-eye guy and the ex-librarian who was practically fucking him against the railing. Giles' hand twisted over Xander's cock, and Xander would have sworn he gripped the handrail hard enough to leave marks.

"Easy," Giles murmured. "Look for the girls, down below." 

"Don't wanna," Xander panted. It was hard to keep his voice from rising over the music. 

"Do it," Giles said, and he rolled his hips up and squeezed Xander's cock and Xander was obeying almost before he realized it.

Buffy was dancing with Faith and Robin, sandwiched between them and losing herself to the music in a way she hadn't done since highschool. Willow was easy to spot, her red hair a familiar beacon, as she and Kennedy half-danced, half-made out on the dance floor, and hey, that was kind of hot. Andrew was hovering at the edge of the dance floor, watching Rona, Vi, and Dawn dance around.

"We all deserve a little break, don't you think?" Giles said, and Xander wanted to drop his head back and moan. "Let yourself go, Xander."

"'M trying," Xander said. Giles's right hand was running over Xander's stomach, under his shirt, providing a counterpoint to the hand on Xander's cock and keeping the two of them pressed tight together. Xander rocked his hips a little, into Giles' hand, and felt more than heard the whimper escape his throat. "I d-don't want--to make a mess."

Giles licked the soft skin beneath Xander's ear. "We'll find a quiet place where I can clean you up," he said, and Xander bucked into his hand, a moan caught in his throat.

"Please," he said, and he didn't even care if anyone heard him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so a) warning for semi-public sex and b) warning for a blatant rip-off of the Spike/Buffy semi-public canon sex. Which I didn't realize until after I'd written it, and which is kind of hilarious because I'm not a fan of Spike/Buffy as a general rule.


	9. Unsaid, Giles/Olivia, for the Drunken Giles Ficathon

She leans over, topping off his glass of red wine, and lifts her own in one dark, slender hand.

“A return, then,” she says, her voice husky with disappointment. He knows he's had more wine than dinner, but that's been the case for quite some time now, really. 

“I...need to go,” he says, and the words he heard less than two hours ago are still ringing in his head. It's wonderful, horrible, impossible news, and he needs to see _her_ with his own eyes. But even with what she's seen, he knows better than to tell Olivia the details. 

She sips her wine, her mouth pulled tight and her eyes distant. He swallows more wine to prevent something foolish from tripping off his tongue, like _it's not that bad_ or _you could come with me._ She wouldn't. She only drops by now because he has assured her that he's pretty well out of the supernatural, though she has never forgiven him for the shattering of a treasured illusion.

“Will you be back?” she asks, and he takes another mouthful of pungent wine, more than he really needs. 

“Maybe,” he says. “I've got the flat....”

Olivia meets his eyes once, and he swallows words he wishes he could say. She finishes her wine. “When do you leave?”

“Monday. I don't know how long I'll be.”

She studies the way the light flinches off her wineglass, and sets it aside. “I'm just drunk enough for a little goodbye,” she says, and leans her head on his shoulder. “Are you?”

He can feel the smile stretching his mouth. “I'll try,” he says. Part of him wants to apologize, but then she kisses him, and the thought flies out of his mind, chased out by the fruity sharp taste of red grapes.


	10. Steampunk!Buffy, gen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *points at Chapter Title* What it says on the tin.

Buffy delicately pushed a stray lock of hair out of her face with one lacy-gloved hand. "Anytime now, Willow!" she called, even as she struck the snarling vampire across the face with her other lacy-gloved fist.

"Right, I got it," the other girl cried. "Get ready to duck!"

Buffy dodged the vampire's next lunge and rolled over the grass, thankful she'd worn her usual old dress for patrolling.

"Eat oak stakes," Xander called, and cocked the rather large gun in his hands up at just the right angle. Three stakes in quick succession flew out of the gun, and while two of them only struck the vampire's limbs, the third struck his heart and he disintegrated with a mournful scream.

"Not bad," Buffy said, as she dusted the grass off her skirt. "A little...overkill, though."

The gun dangled limply from Xander's hand while he massaged his shoulder. "Can I just say, 'Ow'?" he said. "That thing has a hell of a recoil."

Willow shot him a brief, reproving look, but bent over to check the mechanisms. 

"It is a little much," she said, "but hey, three stakes before it needs to be wound up again! That's not too bad. And the cranking only takes a few seconds."

"I think I'll stick with a crossbow, thanks," Xander said. " _Ow._ "

Buffy patted his uninjured shoulder, even as Willow relieved him of the gun. "I like my stake in my hand, myself," she said. "But it's a great idea, Willow! It just needs a little fine tuning, maybe?"

Willow wiped one hand on her grease-stained smock. "Yeah," she said, a little dismal. "But, I just figured, if Xander and I had something powerful to make up for, you know, being puny, it might help you out."

"Just keep me out of the line of sight," Buffy said. "That thing is decidedly deadly." 

Xander dug his a watch out of the pocket of his waistcoat. "Unless I didn't get this wound up right, we'd better get going," he said. "Mr. Giles will be wanting a report, Buffy."

"He's so stodgy," Buffy pouted, but she threaded one arm through Willow's. "Well, let's go. He'll have tea for all of us, I'm sure."

"Ooh!" Xander said, brightening even as he took the heavy, multi-stake gun from Willow's hand. "Maybe with those little creamy yellow cakes!"

Willow and Buffy shared a look and laughed as they walked out of the cemetary, their skirts swishing over the tall grass.


	11. Magnolias, Drusilla/Willow

"You taste like magnolias," the woman said. Willow tilted her head. 

"Do I know you?" she asked, amused. There hadn't been much in her world since that afternoon, since those words and that moment of confusion and silence and screaming. The murderer was murdered, and she was making her way to the fishbowl that held the two scuttling parasites that had helped him.

"Oh, we never met properly," the woman said. "I don't think we did. But I could smell you on him--on Daddy." She closed her eyes and swayed. "I do miss him. He ran away to a city of angels. Thought he could hide."

City of angels. Los Angeles. Angel. So this was--

"You're Drusilla," Willow said. Her amusement deepened. "What brings you here?"

"A song," Drusilla said. Her hands fluttered like living things. "A pretty song. I followed it. I think," she turned her eyes to Willow, "that it comes from you." Her lips parted in a smile. "Pretty magnolia song."

Willow stopped long enough to watch Drusilla come closer. If an axe hadn't hurt her, neither would a vampire, especially one she knew of. 

"A pretty song, am I?" she said. Drusilla smiled, her lips red and shining in the moonlight.

"Oh, yes," she sighed. "You taste like magnolias." She leaned forward, her eyes hooded and dark. "I bet you'd taste like them if I bit you." She sucked in an unneeded breath. "I bet you would."

"Never thought about it before," Willow said. Drusilla driftend closer, close enough to touch, and stroked Willow's cheek.

"Such a pretty flower," she said. "I'd like to pluck you." She enunciated her words with little bites of her teeth. Willow tilted her head and gave her an indulgent smile.

"If I weren't so busy, I might even let you try," she said, and with a thought was gone.


End file.
